


The Tale of Fenris: A Different Path

by TheChampionOfDenerim



Series: The Tale of Fenris [4]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Inquisition, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Multi, One-sided solavellan, Parallel Universes, Past unrequited Anders/Hawke
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-30
Updated: 2016-05-30
Packaged: 2018-07-11 05:47:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7031512
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheChampionOfDenerim/pseuds/TheChampionOfDenerim
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One can never be certain of the path they walk, nor when it forks which is the correct one to take.<br/>To the north lies Minrathous and the song of bittersweet destiny, but what if Leto chose to go west? </p><p>(A parallel-universe fic to <em>The Tale of Fenris</em>.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Tale of Fenris: A Different Path

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is a parallel universe take on _The Tale of Fenris_. It takes place after 'Chapter Six: Remembering the departed'.  
>  This can be read after that fic, or as a completely separate story but I advise reading at least up to the above mentioned chapter to understand all the references made.

It was a little strange the feeling of not wanting to open my eyes. Though I knew the man I loved most in the world lay beside me and all I had to do was look at him, I was savouring the hours we'd spent together. Remembering the way his hands held me, how I'd roared in Tevene as he coursed a gentle fire magic through our veins; the feel of my mouth against his whilst our everything became one. The evening's activities had sparked a new surge of memory, but not one that we couldn't handle. Over the years Hawke and I had begun to keep mental notes on what generated the remembrance. Since it sometimes happened when we kissed or held hands, we concluded it was merely touch not necessarily sex that was the catalyst. The source we had whittled down to strong emotion, specifically if I was feeling intensely joyous or content. Hawke joked that I was probably safe most of the time due to my brooding. That had earned him a dead arm and an icy glare. The memories hadn't been anything particularly worth remembering. Flashes of something and then gone again as usual. Hawke promised we would work on trying to isolate the memories and clarify them once the damned war with the Templars was over and he could use magic safely again. Till then he claimed we could "practice as much as I like".

I could take it no more. With a wicked grin I slid my hand over towards his side of the bed.

'Morning, _Amatus_. Rested enough for-'

The sheets were cool and empty. I opened my eyes. Hawke never got out of bed before mid-morning, not unless the Templars were pounding at the door. Fairly certain such a racket would've woken me, I looked around the attic space for my clothes. Since it was still too dark to see by I channelled my fear through my limbs, lyrium lighting up in response. The blue glow revealed our bed was made-up on Hawke's side, his scattered clothes gone and his staff no longer leaning against the corner. I frowned and then saw a note carefully pinned to his pillow. Relief sank through me, dimming the lyrium a little. He had likely stepped out for a walk or been called to help a nearby farm in need. That explained his missing staff. _Wait, no it doesn't._ Hawke had been very careful during our years there, using a sword when fighting and forgoing all magic use save in our home where we could easily hide it. He'd bought the staff claiming it was "Just in case one day a sword isn't enough". I held no issue with it, and for two years it had all but collected dust. 

I grabbed the note and unfolded it. 

_"Leto,_

_I know it will be strange for you to wake up alone today, but please don't worry. I'm not leaving you, I promise. I know you'll be mad at me for this, and I fully expect an ass-kicking when I get home, but please believe me when I say this is for the best. Varric has written to me of something dire, and it's my responsibility to sort this out. I can't ask you to come with me because of how dangerous this is, and I won't risk you getting killed because of my foolishness and our love. I will hurry home as soon as I'm able to. I ache every moment I'm not by your side._

_Promise me you'll take care till I return, and please don't try to follow me or do anything rash. And please stay away from Redcliffe, there are Tevinters dabbling with the rebel mages there._

_I love you so much._

_Your fiancé, Garrett x"_

I left the note on the bed as I went to grab my armour from the trunk. The man was a complete and utter fool if he thought I wasn't going to follow him. Going about our home quickly I grabbed up supplies into a satchel, finally hitching my blade to my back and padlocking the front door shut behind me. The animals would be fine I hoped, the other farmers all checked in on each other's livestock occasionally; if I was away too long then they'd simply claim them as their own. We could always buy new cattle, but I predicted finding a fiancé as good as Hawke would never happen. 

I didn't have time to be angry, not at first. My every thought was consumed with trying to track Hawke and where he could have gone. The note mentioned only that he had left on word from Varric, that it was somehow his fault and to stay home because Tevinters were in Redcliffe. From this I drew only one conclusion. Something from Hawke's past had upset Tevinter and now they were looking for him. The only connection Hawke had to Tevinter, in my knowledge, was me. Therefore I reasoned the Tevinter Magisters were trying to find me in order to claim my markings back; Varric and his mysterious friends had gotten wind of this and sought to alert Hawke. Hawke had then decided to do something about it and had now run off to solve the damned problem by himself. It begged the question why he didn't solve the Redcliffe issue before charging off, but I assumed he simply thought getting to the root of the problem would fix it quicker and more effectively. It was a sound plan, especially since I would be able to handle a few idiotic mages and their slaver pets by myself should they venture out the town. 

That only left the question of where Hawke had gone. At first I had tried tracking him, but my skills in this were next to useless. I lost sign of his boot-prints once I hit the road, and from then I was blind as to his direction. The bed had been cold, meaning he left at some point between me falling asleep and an hour before my waking. Hawke had at least an hour's head-start and I had no clue which way he'd gone. Trying to ignore the sickening twist in my gut I closed my eyes. 

Then the thought came to me like a bolt from the heavens. If Hawke said to stay away then it must had to have something to do with why he had left. Without further delay I took the dusty path, marching as fast as I could. _Maker help that damned mage when I get my hands on him._ I was heading west, to Redcliffe.

###### 

That day I had no time for pleasantries to those who noticed me. More than once I heard a human or elf turn to their companions and mutter about how strange my sudden rudeness was. In those moments as I stormed through Redcliffe Leto had been swallowed whole by Fenris once more. It was as if I had never left Kirkwall. I wore the skin so well, like a well-worn tunic; the broody elf who answered in grunts of varying disapproval, the ex-slave whose waking hours where consumed with seeking and regaining what was rightfully his. Once more I closed myself off from all distractions and narrowed my mind onto the task at hand. 

It took little over an hour to search the town, talking only with those necessary to enquire if they had seen the mage. As luck would have it Hawke had bought supplies from the store, and a map of Ferelden's western-most reaches. This knowledge settled me a little, I knew he was travelling west and that he planned on staying in Ferelden. Further questions led me to the dock. 

Unlike the ports of the major cities, Redcliffe sported only a single wooden jetty with small fishing vessels tied to its posts. It was a hot afternoon, even for spring. No doubt a good time for catching the lake's bounty as the mooring points lay empty. The stench of drying fish and the tar used to repair breaches was enough to make anyone gag, but the sailors and merchants milled contently about. It was Johan, an apprentice sailor, who spotted me and waved me over. 

'Ahoy Leto!' He grinned as I neared but let it slip when he saw my own expression. Without much effort he dropped a heavy plank of wood onto the dock and wiped the sawdust from his palms. 'You look upset. Did Garrett say "no"? Man's lost his mind if-' 

'It isn't that.' I sighed and rubbed my temples where an ache was beginning to develop. 'I cannot find him and I am worried.' 

'Ah, there's no need to be then.' Johan's smile was back as he pointed out across the lake's blue waters. 'He hopped on Ron's boat this morning, asked to be taken north or something. I got worried; thought he'd left you.' 

I stared out over the expanse of water, not seeing the boy stood before me. 'Can you take me where Garrett went?' 

'I'd love to, really I would.' He now motioned over to the small rowboat that had been pulled onto the grassy hill. Its sail bent like a broken wing and a plank had splintered in its bottom. 'But I hit rocks yesterday when I messed up and got too close to shore.' 

'I see.' 

'Well I better get back to work. See you, Leto. Good luck.' 

With a sting of annoyance and worry I turned away from the apprentice and his boat and made my way back into the town-proper. If I couldn't follow Hawke exactly as he had gone, then there was a chance I would miss him entirely or end up in the wrong place. The west of Ferelden might be a finite place, but it would still take me weeks to walk its length. By then Hawke could have gone to Orlais or even crossed back into the Hinterlands. If only I knew where Varric was staying. The dwarf was certain to know where the mage was headed. 

I found a place to sit below the ruins of the old windmill; the fated place that had lead the Hero of Ferelden beneath the ground and into the Earl's home. For a moment I allowed myself a reprieve. Hawke was no fool, and could more than handle himself in combat. But still there was a nagging at my heart, a part of me that longed to be by his side and gut anything that dared cross his path. He was powerful, yes, and more than in control of his abilities but a mage is as much defenceless at close range as any unarmed man. I am Hawke's warrior, I am supposed to be ever at his front taking enemy blows and giving them in kind as he wields and heals at range. The thought of him going up against such hardships alone froze my insides, the memories coming back all too clearly.

  


It was not long after my first intimate night with Hawke. I'd been spending time locked in the mansion, drowning my demons in wine and refusing all who came to my door. That did not, however, stop the moans of regret from plaguing me. I had spent little over a year sorting out my initial feelings for the apostate, and then a further two trying to gather the courage to do something about it. My torment had been such that even naïve Merrill had joked about "puppy eyes", and though I had denied it, nothing could be closer to the truth. 

Everything in me had ached for him. I had spent the days pacing the dusty rooms awaiting his visits, and the nights staring at the ceiling, imagining him curled against me. In Minrathous I had never dared to dream of such things, but I was finally beginning to feel like a free man. I was able to love, too seek it out and choose the person I wanted to spend my days with. That night when neither Hawke nor I could run from our desires any longer had been the single most wonderful and painful of my life. So I drank and I punched walls till my knuckles bled, for in my mind I was worse than all the wicked Magisters in Tevinter. I had hurt the one person I truly cared for. I did not deserve to be loved. 

This state of melancholy and self-hatred drove me from my friends for several weeks. The person most keen to try and visit had been Varric, closely followed by Sebastian. The dwarf offered games of cards and a shoulder to cry on, whilst the brother proposed I come for confession and prayer to ease my soul. I rebuffed them both. Try as they may, our friends could not offer me the salve I needed. Hawke was the person I wanted most and least to see. 

I was awakened from one wine-soaked stupor by a loud thrashing at the front door. With a groan of irritation I somehow pulled myself from the bed and stumbled towards the noise. Opening the door revealed Varric, splattered in blood and looking nothing of his usual jovial self. Before I could tell him to leave me, he grabbed hold of my wrist. My markings illuminated and I growled low but he ignored it and fixed me with a serious glare. 

"Hawke's in trouble. Go to Darktown _now_." 

That alone sobered me more than any ice water could. Without even turning to shut the door behind me, I made for the lower sector of Kirkwall. Nestled in its darkened belly I found Anders' clinic, the lamp extinguished. Without caring to knock, or let Varric catch up, I threw open the door. The smell of blood hit me first. As I waded my way through the thick atmosphere, the sensation of magic in the air shot sparks up and down my limbs. In the corner Anders was illuminated with the blue haze of healing magic. Beneath him on the table was a bloody corpse of a man, the only sign of life being the very shallow heaving of his chest. Quickly I neared them and beheld the face. 

"Hawke..." 

Slowly the magic faded from Anders' hands. The sleeping mage grew a little more colour to his cheeks, and his breathing deepened a little more. 

"This is your fault." The blonde looked to me. I had not known he could look at me more hatefully than he normally did. It seemed he was setting a new precedent. "Mages and rogues against Tal-Vashoth? It was a massacre! Where were you _Ser Warrior_?" 

"I am not to blame for this." I retorted, taking my eyes from Hawke with incredible difficulty. Terrified that the moment I looked away, his life would slip into the Fade. "Hawke did not call for me. How was I to know I was needed? Besides, where was Aveline?" 

"On guard duty, where she's _supposed_ to be." He moved over to grab bandages from a small table. "You, on the other hand, were no doubt losing yourself to your vices. You stink like a rotten vineyard." 

"Hawke did not call for me." I repeated with a growl, feeling my lyrium heat once more. 

"He shouldn't have to." Came the reply. "You-" 

"A... Anders." We both looked to see Hawke open his least blackened eye. "No. Fenris... has his reasons to not..." He exhaled deeply then tried to get more air into his lungs. "I didn't ask b... because I didn't want to upset you, Fen. Seeing me mi... might have been too much." 

"Hawke." I neared him and rested my hand on his shoulder. "You think too much of my feelings." 

He chuckled a little, before it developed into rasping coughs. "It's because I... I love you."

  


At that moment a bird squalled overhead, pulling my attention from my reverie. It flew across the late morning sky, momentarily eclipsing the blinding scar. The "breach" as everyone seemed to call it, had been present around three or so months now. It was sad to say I was getting entirely used to having a glowing green eyesore nestled amongst the clouds. Every now and again it spat out demons; nothing Hawke and I could not handle, but the rifts... They were a completely different matter. The smaller rips would open at random and spew forth a legion at a time. Defeating the demons was all well and good, but another wave would come as soon as the first was dead. Sometimes we got lucky and the rift would simply stop. It still remained, but ceased being a gateway for a little while; perhaps the Fade inhabitants realising that something on the other side was ending any who dared pass through. But no later than three days after, Hawke and I would be called back to deal with another small army.

_You did promise to take me to strange places, Garrett._

And then it hit me like a bolt from the Maker Himself. The only calamity, that I knew of currently, was the breach. The supposed hero this time was one Inquisitor Lavellan, some Dalish elf who'd managed to stumble her way into being named "The Herald of Andraste". As I stood and leaned against the ruins I chuckled to myself. _Isn't it always the way? A city elf becomes the Hero of Ferelden, a refugee apostate becomes Champion of Kirkwall. Why not let some Dalish accidentally be named prophet to a religion she does not even believe in?_ If there was a world ending you could be sure heroes would gravitate towards it. No doubt the Hero was already at the Inquisitor's side, both awaiting the arrival of the Champion. 

So I too was off to Haven.

###### 

**TRANSLATIONS (non-canon phrases done by Google Translate, so no doubt very poorly).**

**1) _Amatus._ = Tevene word used for one's lover, literally means "Beloved" or "Darling".**


End file.
